


Reciprocity

by why_me_why_not



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_me_why_not/pseuds/why_me_why_not
Summary: One night changes the direction of Reid and Morgan's friendship.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Kudos: 26





	Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Originally posted on December 20 2006 at slashfest for the prompt: _prompt Reid/Morgan, Morgan maybe hitting on Reid, Reid being freaked out (possibly undecided as to his sexuality/straight?), things progressing from there_. My first time writing for CM fandom, and the prompt kinda veered off. Much love and thanks to my asimplechord, anasuede, wook77, and ordinary_magic for their constant reassurance. Beta'd by asimplechord and doctorjonesy. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Spencer Reid doesn't typically drink -- he can spout off all sorts of statistics against it and besides, he was too young and too focused on his schoolwork to drink with his classmates when he was in college, so it had never become a habit -- but after the day he had, he didn't think a beer or three with some of the team would hurt. Now he's having second thoughts because everything seems a bit slower around him, a bit out of focus, and he's not sure how he ended up in his current position.

He knows it was JJ who overrode his protests and dragged him out onto the crowded dance floor, and she's still in front of him, face lit up with laughter that he can't hear over the music. Laughing at him, probably, because even with the alcohol dulling his inhibitions and making him feel limber, he isn't about to lie to himself and pretend he has _any_ sense of rhythm at all, but she could just as well be laughing at whatever is going on behind him. He doesn't have to look to know it's Morgan pressing up against him, moving in time with the music, and the way his body reacts is like slipping into a fantasy about someone he never realized he wanted.

He had always been years younger than his peers, and socially awkward to boot, so he'd missed out on any experience or experiments with anyone -- except for Lila, if that counts, but that was just a few kisses, and after a few months her phone calls had become less and less frequent and sounded more and more like a friendly relative than a potential romantic interest. He's never given it much thought, especially since the work with the BAU isn't exactly conducive to a healthy, long-term relationship, but in the back of his mind he's always kinda assumed he's straight. Of course, he knows that a percentage of adults are attracted to both sexes, and Morgan's enough to capture anyone's attention. The man is a highly attractive, highly charismatic individual.

Reid's thoughts are interrupted by a cheerful female voice beside him. "I think our boy needs another drink; looks like he's thinking again." Garcia. Always thinks she's so funny. And just what's wrong with thinking, anyway?

Morgan's laugh is low and warm against his ear. "He's fine," Morgan says, one of his arms coming across Reid's stomach and pulling him close. "Aren't you, tiger?"

 _Well, no, not really._ Reid's feeling way out of his depth here, and as much as he wants to pull away -- to make his excuses to leave or to go with Garcia's suggestion and down a few more drinks -- he's stuck trying to figure out if what he's feeling is a reaction to the alcohol and the sensuous thrum of the music, or if it's because of JJ or Morgan. And he's afraid that if he does pull away, an inadvertent brush up against one of them will give him away.

He can't believe he let them talk him into this. Never again. He's a lot safer spending nice, quiet evenings at home. Alone. Not having to worry about appearing even more awkward than he usually is and embarrassing himself in front of the people he works with every single day and who would never let him live it down.

"Relax."

Reid practically jumps at the word and feels the silent laughter filter through Morgan's body.

"Reid, relax," Morgan says again, an order wrapped in a rough whisper. "Close your eyes and let the music move through you. That's all dancing really is."

Reid closes his eyes and lets himself relax. They all know he isn't used to the alcohol; he decides he'll just claim drunkenness as an excuse if anything is said in the morning. The music and the murmur of the crowd fade into distant background static. The air around them is close and heavy, too many people crowded into too small an area, everyone pressing against one another so tightly it's hard to distinguish any personal space.

JJ is writhing against him in the front, Morgan still has an arm around him, keeping his back firmly against the solid wall of his chest, and Garcia is beside them, hovering close. Reid doesn't know if the flush he feels in his cheeks is something rising from inside him or from their shared breaths in the close air. There are too many touches, no way to distinguish who's body is where, and he's not sure where his hands are supposed to go. Still, it's not uncomfortable, just... confusing.

The song melts into something different and slow, and the crush of people seems to dissipate a little. The combined laughter of his friends seems to fall around him above the flow of the music as he opens his eyes, blushing a bit when JJ winks at him before linking her arm through Garcia's and heading towards the bar, presumably to settle their tab. He's more disappointed than he wants to admit when the warmth of the forearm against his stomach is replaced with empty air.

"C'mon, kid, I think it's about time to call it a night." Morgan nudges him in the same direction the girls went.

\----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Half an hour and a cab ride later, Reid's feet are steady though his thoughts are not as he trails behind Morgan to the door. When they had landed and Reid had gotten the message that he couldn't go home until tomorrow, that his apartment building had been evacuated due to a carbon monoxide leak, he was ready to crash on the couch in the briefing room, but Morgan had offered up his spare bedroom. Actually, "offered" was definitely too mild a word because it was more like a mandate, but either way, Reid had ended up here.

Morgan's always been an incorrigible flirt; his good-natured teasing is nothing out of the ordinary, but something about this whole situation _feels_ different, and Reid can't stop thinking about Morgan in ways that are wholly inappropriate.

"Hey, genius, you coming in or are you gonna stand on the doorstep all night?"

Reid notices the door standing open and Morgan looking at him expectantly. He quickly crosses over the threshold and walks into what is apparently the living room of Morgan's place, but he can't see much since the only light is what little makes it through the windows from the rainy night outside.

"Um, are we going to turn on a light?" he asks nervously.

"Why are you still scared of the dark?" Morgan's standing right beside him, a shadow in the dark room.

"I believe I told you once before -- it's the inherent absence of light."

"I call bullshit on that one, _Doctor_ Reid. Wanna know what I think? _I_ think it's the inherent absence of knowledge, the fact that you can't know for sure what - or _who_ \- is in that darkness. You can't see." Morgan moves around behind Reid, completely out of his line of sight now. "And you can hear -- if you listen, and if there's something identifiable to listen to -- but in the darkness you have to rely mostly on your sense of feel, and _you_ would definitely overthink it." Morgan slides his hand around to the front waistband of Reid's pants, tugging his shirt free. "So, I want you to stop thinking about this and just _feel_."

They're still standing, and Reid is grateful that Morgan's so close behind him, because leaning into that strength is about the only thing keeping him up as Morgan slowly undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting from the bottom and working his way up, then slides his hands underneath the hem of his undershirt.

It's chilly in the apartment and the air is cold against Reid's stomach but Morgan's hands are warm. Reid closes his eyes and relaxes against Morgan, focusing his attention on Morgan's hands and their rhythm.

Morgan's breathing has sped up and Reid is somewhat surprised. He's seen Morgan chase a suspect half a mile, tackle him to the ground to subdue him, and be completely unfazed. He kind of likes it though, because it's something he's caused.

Morgan moves around in front of Reid, takes him by the hand, kicks his shoes off as he walks backwards toward the couch. Reid tries to toe off his own shoes too, but in the process ends up practically tripping over his own feet. Morgan laughs and it feels normal; this is the way things always are between them, light teasing and easy touches, and Reid's awkwardness ebbs, calmed by the steady look in Morgan's eyes.

Morgan pushes Reid down to sit on the couch and kneels on the floor between his legs. "You know I'm not pushing you into anything, right? Tell me to back off and I will, and we'll forget this whole thing."

Reid doesn't trust himself to speak, knowing he'll be tripping over any words he tries to get out, so he just shakes his head. At the beginning of the evening, he'd have never guessed this is where they would end up, but he doesn't want it to stop.

Morgan's gaze flickers from Reid's eyes downward and back, and he leans closer, hands braced on Reid's thighs. Reid knows what's coming but he's still startled by the press of Morgan's lips against his, soft but insistent as he coaxes Reid into the kiss. Reid is following his lead, trying to mimic his actions (all the while storing this bit of experience away for later -- he's learning from a master so the technique is bound to be good). He feels a slight sense of accomplishment when he tentatively slides his tongue against Morgan's and feels Morgan's grip tighten on his thighs.

Morgan's hand slides up to cup Reid through his khakis, and Reid involuntarily arches up into the gentle, kneading touch. He's torn between clinging to the rational thought he always hides behind and letting himself get lost in the sensations, but he no longer has a choice when Morgan's hands find his belt and deftly undo the buckle, never altering the intensity of their kiss. When he finally does pull away, it's just far enough to whisper "Up", and Reid complies, lifting his hips off the couch far enough to allow Morgan to slide his underwear and khakis down.

Reid's train of thought starts back up again at the idea of being literally naked and exposed in front of a _coworker_ , and oh my god, this is _Morgan_ , but that's quickly derailed when Morgan wraps a hand around Reid's cock. Reid wants to watch, but that's hard enough in the dim room and what little vision he has narrows when he feels warm puffs of breath ghost across the head of his cock, so he lets his head fall back on the couch and closes his eyes instead, trying to focus on just _feeling_ like he was ordered to. The hasty whisper of "Oh god" that slips from his lips at the touch of tongue to his cock turns into broken whimpers when Morgan's lips wrap around him. He can sense Morgan laughing -- amusement, triumph, indulgence, whatever, he doesn't really care at this point as long as he _doesn't_ stop.

His world dissolves into just this, just Morgan: the push-pull slide of his hand meeting the warm-wet slip of his mouth, his other hand sliding over whatever skin he can reach, the flat of Reid's stomach, the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh, pressing on the bit of skin just behind his balls. Reid's own hands are fisted on the couch cushions, flexing and relaxing as he tries to keep his hips still and not push up into Morgan's touch. The combination of the feelings and the fact that he's never been in this situation -- and especially the fact that it's _Morgan_ \-- means that it's an embarrassingly short amount of time before Reid's coming, feeling the muscles of Morgan's throat work around him as he swallows, and he's biting his lip to keep from spilling out words that not even he'd be able to decipher. Their breathing is loud and shallow and in unison as it echoes in the quiet room.

Morgan climbs up on the couch beside him, a satisfied laugh falling off his lips. "The great Dr. Reid speechless?"

Reid wants to glare at him, even if the feeling behind it is only mock annoyance, but instead concentrates on tucking himself back into his underwear and sliding his pants back up. He feels like a retard sitting here in the dark with his dick hanging out, and besides, he really is speechless. When he turns to face Morgan, his first thought is how much he wants to get rid of that smirk on his face, so without allowing himself to think about it too long or too hard, he leans closer and kisses him, tongue sliding across his lips, tasting himself along with the underlying taste of Morgan. He wonders if Morgan's skin would taste the same beneath his tongue, and realizes he really, really wants to find out.

Firmly pushing aside any thoughts that would have him second-guessing himself, he brings a hand up to rest on the inside of Morgan's thigh, rubbing slightly, building up his own courage. He slides his hand up further, rubbing over the bulge in Morgan's jeans, the warmth under his palm enticing him to keep going. When his fingers fumble with Morgan's belt, Morgan pulls back slightly.

"Hey, Reid, you don't have to. That's not what this is about."

"I want to." He flashes a smirk of his own at Morgan. "Besides, don't you wanna know how good a teacher you are?"

Something dark and unrecognizable flashes through Morgan's eyes, and Reid takes it as a good sign since after that Morgan's shifting around to slide his jeans and boxers down far enough to free his cock, while Reid shifts positions to find himself on the floor between Morgan's thighs. He can sense the tension in Morgan, feel it in the tautness of his muscles, but there's no sense of rush or urgency -- Morgan's not pushing him. The hand that's wrapped around the back of his head, kneading his hair, is calming and encouraging, and Reid just hopes that he can do this well enough to please Morgan.

Morgan's muttering low words of encouragement; Reid recognizes his name but not much else, though the tone is enough to help calm his nerves. He wraps one of his hands around Morgan's cock, rubbing up and down the shaft, sliding his thumb over the head, getting accustomed to the feel of the first cock he's touched that's not his own. He flicks his tongue out hesitantly, barely touching the head, and then runs the flat of his tongue along the full length of the vein on the underside. The taste there _is_ purely Morgan, only a stronger combination of exotic and erotic. Morgan sucks in his breath and Reid glances up at him, appreciating the way he can see Morgan's eyes focused on him, even in the dark. He's not normally keen on being the center of attention, but if that attention is coming from Morgan, he'll reconsider.

Reid takes a deep breath, completely surrounded by the sense of Morgan, and wraps his lips around his cock, lightly, tentatively. He tries to remember what Morgan had done that he'd liked, to think of what would feel good, and he's got the added bonus of Morgan guiding him with a gentle touch. He gives up on thinking anything other than the taste and feel of Morgan, compares it to letting the music move through him in order to dance, only now it's like letting _Morgan_ flow through him, and Reid can feel himself growing hard again just from touching Morgan. He loses himself in what he's doing, working only for the next taste, the reward of Morgan's touch or Morgan's words when he's done something right, and it barely registers that Morgan's warning him that he's coming before he _is_ and Reid does his best to swallow without choking, though he still ends up with semen dribbling from the side of his mouth and decides it probably has to be the most inelegant blowjob ever, but Morgan must not mind because the way he says Reid's name, the way it sounds like a plea and a blessing and a curse all at once... Reid knows that he'll never be able to hear Morgan say his name again without thinking of _this_.

Morgan tightens his fingers in Reid's hair and tugs slightly, pulling him up and kissing him thoroughly, licking the corners of his mouth. Reid thinks it should feel awkward or strange, especially with Morgan's cock pressed against the bare skin of his stomach as he leans closer to Morgan, but it's not.

When Morgan breaks the kiss, they're both wearing smiles of smug satisfaction, and although everything about the dynamics between them have changed, their underlying connection hasn't, and it feels _right_ , like this is the natural progression of where they were before.

"So, wonderboy, how about we find the bed?" Morgan says, standing up and pulling his pants up.

"Um, yeah, sure." Reid's a bit nonplussed and more than a bit disappointed; he's not tired in the least now, and there's a list of things he still wants to learn, and he wants Morgan to be the one to teach him.

"Hey," Morgan says with a wink, leading the way down the hall, "I said bed, I didn't say sleep."

Reid's up and following before he even finishes speaking; he's too smart to pass this up.


End file.
